BWW Blog: SMELLS LIKE BOURBON: My Offering to Elements Theatre Collective's 24-Hour Play Festival

Every once in a while it comes up in conversation that I write about theatre. Most people find this barely interesting, but sometimes someone becomes suddenly and unexpectedly intent--aroused, even--in my work. They start by questioning my credentials, which is really to say that they want to know where I get off having an opinion about other peoples' art.

"You're a reviewer?" They ask, in the way someone might ask, "You're a kitten murderer?"

"I prefer to phrase my articles more like an exploration of concepts," I tell them, but it's too late because they're already imagining me strangling cats.

"But you write about how bad other peoples' theatre is."

"... I definitely try to offer an informed opinion ..."

And then the real question--the actual emotional impetus behind the conversation and imagined kitten killing--is approached:

"Have you ever produced anything of your own? Do you know what it's like to produce something meaningful to you, and have it be torn to pieces by a reviewer?"

It's understandable: people want to question the validity of critique from someone who may have never experienced the emotional scarring of a review that calls out their play as deplorable. I suppose it's similar to asking a cop if they've ever been unjustly arrested, or asking a lawyer if they've ever been sued, or asking a psychiatrist if they've ever gone crazy, or asking a personal trainer if they've ever been fat. The point is, of course, that the question of whether or not I've ever produced work of my own is inane. The very act of writing about a play is the production of work. And I certainly know the sting of having someone be remarkably unimpressed with something I've written. I went to art school, for God's sake. That's how art school works.

But my automatic cynicism aside, I appreciate the underlying concern, which I believe is about my capacity for empathy when analyzing a play. Often this conversation originates from someone who has suffered the severe ego-slap of an unimpressed review (especially one that's accurate). With that in mind, I try to be proactive about finding opportunities for growth within the various aspects of the craft of theatre. Three or four times a year I try to accomplish something creative, such as a performance, writing dramatic literature for public consumtion, or designing for a production. I'm a writer, primarily, but also a theatre artist, and I believe in the importance of involving myself in every aspect of theatrical production--conceptualization included. So next week I'm participating in the Elements Theatre Collective's "Basic Elements 24-hour Play Festival."

It sounds like a blast. Here's how it works:

1. People sign up and choose to act, direct, or write. Everyone meets up on Friday night and is sorted into groups of actors, each group with one writer and one director.
2. The groups discuss the concept they want to perform, and the writers head off to write the play. Scripts are due by 8 AM the next morning (Saturday), and rehearsals begins shortly after.
3. The performance starts at 8 PM that night! Immediately following, Elements initiates their customary talk back with the audience about the material.
4. There's a party involved. After all, a group of artists just created a play in 24 hours--an impressive feat.

I can see this event going down in one of three ways.

1. I'll be cast as an actor. I'm a very bad actor, so let's hope it doesn't come to that. I'm a writer, not a charismatic stage presence. I'm awkward in person--and art, in the case of my acting, imitates life.
2. I'll be appointed as a director. I would be happy with that; it would give me a new point of view in terms of bringing a script to life. I've worked on a substantial number of theatrical productions in my life, but never as a director. (I'm usually on the costume crew, which is fine by me--I can fix a button and mend a seam and glue on fake eyelashes like no one's business).
3. Most likely I'll be assigned the task of writing the play--I say this not out of vanity, but because the group initially meets on Friday night to discuss their collective vision for the play...and the script is due at 8 AM the next morning. I know very few people other than myself (my grad school compatriots aside--word up to Nino and Corinne!!) who are not only willing, but enthralled by the idea of staying up all night to write and rewrite dramatic dialogue. The idea of it is practically erotic to me: light some candles, bring out the Bourbon, set my alarm for 6 AM so I'll remember to stop writing, stop drinking, make a pot of coffee, print the f-ing thing, and take a shower for God's sake--you smell like a Manhattan.

And from the printer and my exhaustion will come forth a one-act play called "Smells Like Bourbon" (loosely based on my willingness but inability to produce a play overnight).

The festivities begin Friday, March 20th at 7 PM. Join us! Come have a theatre date night with me.

The rehearsals begin Saturday March 21st at 8 AM. Come have a breakfast Bourbon--I mean coffee--with me.

The Performance is March 21st at 8pm. Come see it, and experience the frantic, frenetic, bizarre pleasure of a 24-hour flurry of theatrical collectivism and creativity. It's only 10$ to participate (less than a Manhattan!) and it's a great way to dip your toe into the theatrical creation process or, for junkies like me, to get your theatrical fix.

Sign up here:
http://www.elementstc.org

And after everything, I promise we'll go to the bar.

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